


Esse Quam Videri

by DemonSomething



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Bondage, Canon Gay Character, Dominant!Arcade, Handcuffs, M/M, Prostitution, Shameless Smut, Veronica is a Killjoy, Worldbuilding, but not really, is that a thing?, it's not shameless, like really dirty, money kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSomething/pseuds/DemonSomething
Summary: Arcade's secret gets figured out pretty quickly. He comes to not mind it very much.





	Esse Quam Videri

**Author's Note:**

> This is that fastest I've ever written 6800 (!) words...and it's also the dirtiest, PWPest stuff I've ever written...I feel pretty ashamed of myself.
> 
> Title translates to "To be rather than to seem," and is the state motto of North Carolina. At least it isn't a song lyric like everything else I write, because, y'know, I'm 13 again.

Arcade quickly decided that he liked Cape May as he stepped off the gangplank. Compared to a lot of other places he’d seen on the East Coast so far, this was the only one that could be best described as well-run.

Apparently, the locals could trace things back right to when the bombs dropped, and they’d banded together ever since. They kept the Victorian houses standing strong, if in need of some fresh paint and new siding, housed sailors and travelers in the old hotels, kept mirelurks off the beach, and were able to defend the town and a bit of the surrounding fields with the help of an old canal serving as a moat. No advanced tech, no bribes to raiders, just people coming together and working hard. Compared to literally everywhere else around it, it was pretty inspiring, if he said so himself.

He wished the rest of the gang from New Vegas could see it all. He looked back behind him to see Veronica dashing to meet him with a wan grin, almost to mock his lumbering motions in the old power armor suit. Damn suit was the root of his problems, the reason he was here in the first place, the reason only Veronica stayed with him, just as lost as he was.

Six had been the first to go after he handed victory to the NCR at Hoover Dam. He had handed the reins of governing to the King temporarily until his return.

_“I think I know where I came from now, Arcade,” he had said, “I think I can feel it, deep down.”_

_Arcade bit his lip and squinted his eyes, “You sure? Could just be someone latching on to California’s newest hero, after all. Where is it you think you’re from?”_

_Six took a deep sigh, “Arroyo. You know that girl with the Followers who tried to bug House’s systems, Emily Ortal? She said I looked familiar, like someone important from back there. Said it might explain how the hell I’ve managed to pull everything I’ve done on my own off...I’ve gotta go there.”_

_Arcade’s mouth opened a bit, trying to find a word to say, pausing for a few seconds, “Six, I love you…but this seems a bit rash to decide that.”_

_Six smiled bittersweetly, “I gotta find home. Dum spiro spero, Arcade. While I breathe, I hope.”_

_Arcade’s heart swelled, it was nice to hear Six talk Latin, “Where’d you learn that?”_

_Six laughed, “A road atlas I found, it was South Carolina’s motto Pre-War.”_

_Arcade couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a Six thing to do, puckish yet intelligent, and with such sincerity, “If you’re going to go Six, I see no other choice than to accompany you and fix yet more injuries,” he said, putting on a sarcastic air of false duty._

_Six’s mouth turned down at the corners, and he looked at the floor, “Arcade…I think I have to do this alone…kinda like the Sierra Madre…I need to work on me. For a while.”_

_“What the hell does that mean, Six?”_

_“It means I might come back for you, but it could be a long time,” Six said softly. He leaned in to kiss Arcade. Arcade accepted the kiss, but kept his lips tense and still._

_“That’s nonsensical, Six, and you know it. I can still help you through this, like we already have.”_

_“I just have this feeling Arcade. I need to do this alone…”_

Just like that, Six left heading northwest, leaving an empty Lucky 38 and a boatload of caps meant to tide everyone over for a year. Arcade had meant to stay, but he had fought at Hoover Dam wearing Enclave power armor, coming out of an Enclave vertibird. NCR authorities just didn’t forget things like that. Colonel Hsu at least felt obligated to tell him they were coming to get him. He didn’t feel like moldering in a prison on war crimes charges because of who his parents were, so he took off east with the caps. Six faded quickly into memory as the road started. Many of Six’s other compatriots joined Arcade, Veronica because being Brotherhood was just as much liability, Cass because she saw nothing left for her in the Mojave, same for Boone and Raul. Lily tagged along because they needed someone to smash things. The NCR was good for everybody else except them, they were just the ones against the world.

Boone left first. The death of Caesar and Lanius left the Legion collapsing under itself, new warlords emerging in the name of Caesar, new Romes declared in Phoenix, Flagstaff, Yuma, Las Cruces, and Santa Fe. Much like the old Desert Rangers in Nevada, the Arizona Rangers sought to dispense the law. Boone saw a way to keep doing what he loved: killing Legionaries.

The five remaining fought their way through post-Legion anarchy, east on to the Great Plains. Raul could feel the aches in his bones, Cass could feel her heart beating just a little different from what it should. Six had kept them all together, and he was long gone now. Cass called it quits in Kansas, bought a herd of Brahmin with her share of the caps. Raul went with her, settled down on the homestead and grew a bit of razorgrain. Lily tended to the Brahmin and the bighorners, as she long had.

And only two remained. They moved south through Texas, tribals and cowboys and Brahmin barons passing by, taking a bit of work to clear out raiders in forgotten towns. They took passage to wherever was farthest away from Corpus Christi the second they hit the coast, and that had been Cape May.

Veronica dashed past Arcade, and spun around, the skirt of her green dress billowing around her like a Pre-War detergent commercial. The dress Six had got her.

“Arcade, can you honestly believe it! I never thought I would ever travel this far in my life. California, all the way to New Jersey?” she said, taking in the busy streets, the inns, and the hawkers and shopkeepers taking up the sidewalks. There was a vibrancy to this place, different than Vegas. More trade, not gambling.

“Roni, you do realize they thought this place was trashy Pre-War, right?” Arcade snapped back, walking on to solid ground to meet Veronica.

She scowled, “Hey, no need to be so gruff. We might stay here, we might not, we just have to see what work there is around here.”

Arcade sighed. They still had plenty of caps between them, but he hated the idea of squandering the plunder of Courier Six. Two thousand miles, and he stood tall above them, sinking into their brains as a truly inescapable force.

 

But for now, immediate concerns of rest took priority. It had been a cramped ship, and a long few days, stopping in Nawlins, avoiding the Florida Wastes, and another stop in Savannah. Ships these days had working reactors, but not working showers, so he and Veronica felt stiff and filthy and tired. Fixing that seemed like a good option.

“So,” Arcade started, walking alongside Veronica, “Should we try and get a place to stay for at least the night? That one looks pretty decent,” he said, looking up at a Modernist hotel, still keeping some of its former crispness and whiteness despite the peeling paint and stucco. Veronica squinted and sized up the establishment.

“Why do you like all the boring buildings, Arcade?” she asked, “That one looks a lot nicer. Way more homey,” she pointed towards an inn that would have been old before the bombs. It looked like a big house, really, a long gable with cedar shingles so old and faded they were practically white, the white paint on the trim peeled off in places to reveal wood almost as white from the winds and sand and salt.

Arcade deemed it to be nice-enough looking, “Fine, we’ll go there. Hundred caps a night or less though.”

“Why? Thought our budget was two.”

“I kinda want to have my own room for at least tonight,” Arcade admitted. Some space to himself and his thoughts sounded amazing, even if just for a night.

The duo walked up the steps on to the porch, and while Veronica happily bounced through the door into the lobby, Arcade stopped for a second. He felt eyes on his back. He turned to his left, and a man was looking at him. He was slumped over on a bench, elbows on his knees, head turned to his right. He had a stare going, a deep, eagle-eyed one from a pair of blue eyes. One that noticed details…like the obvious Enclave insignia on his chest.

Arcade stopped and pulled off his helmet with a hiss of the servos from the power armor frame,

“Would you happen to have issue with my presence,” he asked dryly. The other man squinted further, and adjusted the green cap he was wearing.

“Not now, no,” he said, his voice hostile and defiant “But do us all a favor and stay away from the well.”

Arcade lifted an eyebrow and hurried through the door with a clanking of metal-encased legs. That was odd, very odd, and not something he liked. The lobby was dim with a ratty and ancient green carpet. Veronica was already talking with the innkeep at the desk. She turned to Arcade,

“Good news, she says it’s ninety caps a night for one room. We’ll get two.”

Arcade nodded in approval after a few distracted seconds and drew out the appropriate number of caps. Cheaper than he thought, which was nice. Once the two had their keys, Arcade quickly pulled Veronica aside, underneath the main staircase up to the rooms.

“We have a problem,” he said tersely.

Veronica frowned, “Is it bad enough that you just bruised my arm with your robo-hands?” she asked, rubbing her right forearm.

“Someone recognized the Enclave insignia on my chest piece.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, “Shit. I didn’t know there even were Enclave people out here.”

 

“Neither did I. He didn’t want a fight, but he knew what was up. Gave me a strange cryptic warning too, to stay away from a well.”

“Yeah, that’s a little odd. Just get to your room and get out of the power armor, hopefully things will blow over. I told you it was a good idea to repaint that suit some other color. Enclave black isn’t really subtle.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Arcade agreed, “Let’s go.”

The two went upstairs, and to their adjacent rooms. Veronica gave a quick nod as the two unlocked their doors, and Arcade was finally alone. He walked over to a corner and hit the exit button on his power armor frame. A whir of clanks and pneumatic hisses rose as the arms and legs opened up to release him from their metallic confines. He closed the suit, and flopped down on to the bed.

The clothes he was wearing underneath were a bit sticky from sweating under metal, and rumpled. Lab coat, button down shirt, normal summer clothes for him. He walked over to the bathroom, and took a glorious, if cool and brackish shower. The steam had softened the wrinkles on his clothes, and he felt good, better than he had in a while.

It was almost feeling like an adventure as opposed to an aimless exile. He wished Six could have seen it. He sat in an armchair wearing a towel and his glasses, happy to not be moving. He was getting old for this shit. Not that he was particularly worn out, he felt pretty youthful for forty one, no gray hairs, no bad knees. Enclave physical education at its finest. He just had the feeling something could have gone better, he could have finally put down roots somewhere, had something besides himself to care about. For a brief moment, he thought Vegas could have offered that; the creation of a proper government, the bettering of life for all the Mojave, the embrace of Courier Six.

There had been a lot of lovers in the life of Arcade Israel Gannon, but none that had stayed. A couple really could have, but the circumstances of his life had always interfered. There was nowhere to stay, no one to love for too long, not while being a criminal by birth. He thought of Six, stubbled and grubby from the dust of the desert, but with a beaming white smile that could distract even from the circular bullet scar on his temple. Six, such an eager listener, such an eager helper. The Six who would give piles of Stimpacks to Julie and the Followers that he could have used for his own gashes and broken bones. The Six who would rush a deathclaw for his friends. The Six who loved him.

And the world had to make him another former lover.

Arcade thought of him, smiling next to him in bed at the Lucky 38, looking down on all of New Vegas, lean and wiry, standing proud and tall despite his own fairly short height. His hand slipped beneath his towel, feeling his cock twitch. He missed Six so much, wished he could be there as he began to stroke and the towel fell to the floor as his arm pumped and flexed. He found a rhythm, and an image of Six swimming in Lake Mead, calling him in, tugging off his shirt to dive in, and…

Veronica quickly took the time to open the door connecting from his room to hers,

“Hey Arcade, just wanted to check in and….Sweet Gecko on a stick!” she jumped in shock and covered her eyes, “You boys are so gross!”

Arcade could only sigh and pick up his towel, “Try knocking next time,” he yelled through the still opened doorway. All Veronica could do was scoff angrily and close the door. Arcade dressed quickly, and decided now was the time to leave his room for a bit. His hair still a bit damp, he went back down the hallway and downstairs. The bar beckoned, even with bottles of what was clearly Pre-War whiskey and beer. He sat down on a bar stool, the patent leather long since torn and the foam padding underneath long since petrified. He looked down as he wiggled to find a comfortable position, and looked up to find the man from the porch on the stool to his left, looking right at him.

“Uh, can I help you again?” Arcade asked, more than a bit of hostility seeping into his voice.

“Uh,” the man began, clearly mocking Arcade, “You actually could.”

He had the green cap from earlier, and a matching green shirt underneath, something almost uniform about it. He wore a tattered yellow duster over it, one sleeve gone entirely. He was cute, in a lost little Dickens ragamuffin way. His eyes were sharp and blue, his cheeks sunken to show off his cheekbones. It would be a delicate face if it weren’t for his pensive expression and his teeth. They weren’t in good shape, blackened and crooked. He was a Wastelander, definitely, lines drawn into his face from experience, and obscuring his age.

“What can I do,” Arcade said, his eyes narrowing.

“Where’d you get that power armor?” the man asked, just as hostile.

Arcade breathed out loudly, this really wasn’t going to end well. May as well explain the half-truth…

“It’s a family heirloom. Fifty years old,” he said, glancing towards the door.

The other man raised his eyebrow, “Was your family Enclave? I’d know that symbol anywhere.”

“What’s the Enclave to you?”

“Bad fuc…Bad freaking news. Ten years ago, I lived in the Capital Wasteland, y’know DC. They tried to poison the water, kill everyone except them. Didn’t work, they were sold out…but I bet you know that. Disappointed?” the other man accused, holding back anger.

Arcade’s eyes widened. The Enclave, on the East Coast? God, they wouldn’t ever truly die, would they, boogeymen swooping down from vertibirds until the end of time.

“They didn’t lose the genocide kick, of course not,” Arcade muttered to himself.

“What was that,” the other man insisted, almost yelling. Arcade sighed, it seemed like only the full truth would set him free.

“Will you hear me out for a minute?” he asked. The man in the green cap narrowed his eyes, and Arcade noticed the rifle slung behind his back…and the pistol he had already drawn from his hip.

“Maybe I will, until I hear the wrong things from you,” he spat from gritted teeth.

Arcade could feel his chest tighten. All this running from the NCR, only to have the Enclave’s reputation run faster than him. This was it, this was the end, but he figured he may as well try.

“I was born into the Enclave on the West Coast, in California. It collapsed over there when I was little, actually, a bit before I was born. They just hunt down the remnants in California, and I’ve been trying to get away my whole life. I never knew they were in DC. I’ve been in Vegas until recently, working as a doctor,” he explained, beads of nervous sweat forming on his forehead.

The other man relaxed his teeth, and his look was almost…understanding. This was just getting odd.

“I see. I’ve been trying to run from my own crazy paramilitary group myself. Heard of the Gunners?”

Arcade was bewildered, and his mouth dropped open, “Uh…no, can’t say I have?”

This new friend of his tilted his head, “Yeah, you are probably fresh off the boat. They’re mercs. Run from DC to Boston, that’s where they had me. They’re vicious, did a lot of bad things, and I ran. I thought I’d be an actual soldier…I was wrong. But tell me, what do you think of the Enclave?” he asked, his voice getting tense again.

Arcade was still more bemused than terrified, “Honestly…I knew some good people, but the Enclave were mostly assholes who wanted to kill indiscriminately. I’m glad they’re gone.”

The other man smiled, and holstered his pistol, “Y’know, I’m kinda sorry about that. I was a kid when the Enclave tried to poison us all, so…it’s kind of a bad memory. I didn’t know you were born into them though, must be awful.”

Arcade figured he should just go along with this, be empathetic too, “ _Esse quam videri,_ to be rather than to seem. I’m far from Enclave.  Plus, I didn’t really know my parents either, which is pretty ironic, considering they kinda started this whole mess for me.”

The other man laughed, “Yup, orphan too. Grew up in a cave with a bunch of other kids,” yeah, something was wrong with him, “You can call me MacCready.”

“I’m Arcade Gannon, formerly with the Followers of the Apocalypse in New Vegas.”

It was MacCready’s turn to be concerned, “Apocalypse?”

Arcade was bemused, this was a pretty common thing in new turf, for any Follower, “Yeah, they have a really bad brand image,” he snarked, “But it’s actually a medical organization. Help the Wastes, research new treatments, preserve knowledge. I’m kinda proud of what they do, even if I’m not that good at it.”

“So why are you here as opposed to with them in Vegas? Man…that’s a long way away…”

Arcade couldn’t help but laugh grimly, “My forebears came back to haunt me…and a big firefight. It’s a really long story.”

MacCready laughed, “Hey, I love a good story about a firefight, maybe you could tell it one day.”

Arcade couldn’t keep his instincts from kicking in, “Okay, why such a huge mood shift? I thought you were about to kill me.”

“Well…you don’t like them, you ran away. I did the exact same thing with the Gunners. Besides, even if you were still Enclave, I overreacted I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky I never really was Enclave. It fell apart when I was just a kid, as I said, but I can’t begin to explain how much they loathe the Enclave in California. Hunted everyone down even remotely connected. If I stayed in California or Vegas, they’d toss me in prison for the rest of my life, so I left.”

“Damn, well I’m sorry. Maybe I should start over from the beginning, pretend this didn’t happen. I’m MacCready, not comfortable with my first name. I hang around here for now, but mostly I just work for caps, y’know,” MacCready said, flashing a grin of bad teeth that somehow didn’t make him any less attractive.

“What kind of work?” Arcade asked.

“Y’know, whatever people want to do or need done,” he said, looking down a bit, “Caps are king. Mostly people just hire my services for the day, sometimes for a week.”

Arcade had run into plenty of hustlers and escorts in his day, but this MacCready had to be one of the odder ones yet. He did some pondering, judging from what happened back in his room, he was horny. MacCready wanted money, and Arcade didn’t blame him for not liking the Enclave, no one did. As much as he wanted to return to Six, it was never going to happen. May as well find some new boy toys, even if they’d just tried to kill you for being Enclave. If anything, that was pretty virtuous.

“So back in Vegas,” Arcade began, leaning over on to the bar, the bartender having long ignored the two on the verge of what seemed like a firefight in the making, “Usual rates are fifty caps an hour, is it any different around here?”

MacCready thought for a second, and bit his lip, “Yeah, that’s what usually goes around here, but guys like me? That’s in short supply. Eighty. No one more loyal and attentive than me.”

Arcade raised his eyebrows at MacCready’s burst of confidence, “Eighty, you say? You drive a pretty hard bargain. Sixty five, last offer,” he said, an almost lecturing tone seeping in.

MacCready stroked his chin, pondering for a second, “I’ll take it.”

Arcade grinned, “Well MacCready, I’m glad we could reach an agreement. We can discuss the particulars upstairs.”

MacCready’s face relaxed as negotiations ended, and his resting face seemed almost pup-like to Arcade, big blue trusting eyes. He realized that despite the lines on his face, he might actually be pretty young. What would weary him so quick? Waster boy kicked off the farm? Sick of killing and offering a gun?

The two began to walk up the stairs, and Arcade was fascinated as to how quickly this had all taken place. Forty one and he still had it, he guessed…or he was just an idiot. He still had the plasma pistol back in the hotel room anyway.

“Before you ask,” MacCready began, “I can take whatever you throw at me, or whatever you get me into. I know how to handle things.”

Oh boy, Arcade was going to take him for the ride of his life.

“That’s good to hear,” Arcade replied, opening the door to his room, and quickly going to lock the side door to Veronica’s room. Not again. He walked over to the armchair, suit of power armor, and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back.

“So, MacCready, I think now would be a good time to take off your clothes.”

MacCready blushed, and shrugged out of his tattered out, smiling widely as if he were a bit nervous. Arcade could still see his bad teeth, but somehow, he didn’t mind them that much. Considering the last guy had a bullet in his forehead, he guessed that teeth weren’t such a big deal after all. He kept that smile, his tongue poking out clearly conscious of said teeth, as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, taking his time, moving his shoulders as far back and wide as they could go, chest heaving out as each button came undone.

The last button was undone and he yanked off the shirt, each sleeve in quick succession. He had done this before, definitely. He was wiry, some would say scrawny, biceps and pecs barely there, and fat non-existent. Arcade was perfectly fine with his, as his abs emerged instead, perfectly symmetrical and very, wondrously pronounced. He grabbed his belt and pushed down, exposing the upper part of his hip as he wound his pelvis like the Kings back in Vegas, but so much more convincingly sexy.

He glanced back at Arcade, biting his tongue, focused on slowly pushing down his pants, revealing the contours of jutting bone. He reached for his belt, and glanced again at Arcade. Arcade nodded, eyes almost shark-like in anticipation. MacCready undid his belt, holding the loose end off of the metal peg for a second, still writhing his hips, and then pulled off the belt in one fluid motion. He turned around, and bent over to untie his boots, unfortunately getting bogged down for a few seconds before stepping out of them.

Thankfully for Arcade, he pulled open the button fly on his pants in one quick motion, and quickly dropped them to this ankles. His pair of underwear was just some grimy white briefs, like everyone else in the Wastes. He stepped out of his pants, and Arcade could see the lean muscle on his legs. He tugged on one side of his underwear, and quickly sent them to the floor. His cock wasn’t hard yet, but the excitement of standing naked before Arcade was sending the first twitches of an erection to MacCready’s cock.

“That is something I like to see,” Arcade said, “But now we’re going to need to step things up a bit.”

Arcade got up from his seat, and walked over to MacCready, grabbing his arms, and leading him to the bed, “If any part of what’s about to happen isn’t okay, tell me.”

MacCready just laughed it off for a second, “Sure.”

Arcade licked his lips, and pushed MacCready on to the bed. MacCready’s face was mostly incredulous, with a bit of excitement. Arcade walked over and fished out a pair of handcuffs from his pack, and slowly walked back over to the bed, his eyes narrowing and glinting mischievously.

“What have I gotten myself into?” MacCready asked, almost amused by the situation.

“A boatload of trouble. You’ve been captured by the Enclave,” Arcade said wryly. MacCready rolled his eyes in response.

Arcade kicked off his shoes and climbed on to the bed. Watching MacCready’s chest heave was pretty damn sexy, seeing him hard before his eyes. He grabbed his arms and quickly cuffed him to the brass bedframe. He pushed MacCready forward, so that he was almost sitting up, buried his face in MacCready’s abs, kissing every contour he could, happy to simply have them.

“Should have brought some whipped cream,” MacCready snarked, smiling enticingly. Arcade raised his head to meet MacCready’s eyes, “Y’know, I think we’re going to get along quite nicely,” Arcade said, tracing a finger up MacCready’s chest, deftly tracing a circle around MacCready’s left nipple, getting MacCready to bit his lip and breathe in sharply. Arcade backed off as he sighed, his hands running down the younger man’s sides to rest on his thighs, the rest of his body already moved down. Arcade found MacCready’s cock and gave it an exploratory lick, feeling the body beneath him quiver from the stimulation. He took it into his mouth and started sucking, and MacCready finally lost it entirely. His panting grew even harder, and he yanked his arms forward with the ringing of metal on metal. Arcade could feel the waves of tension rolling through his body. As nice as this was, he couldn’t do it for very long, poor MacCready wouldn’t be able to keep up for all that long.

Arcade stopped blowing him, a pop sounding from his lips as he lifted off, and MacCready moaned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the younger man said quickly, trying to get it out of his system.

 “Look at you, getting so demanding,” Arcade teased, “You know, I could leave you out here to hang, like a bedsheet on a clothesline,” he continued, watching MacCready whimper from lack of contact and bite down hard on his lower lip, “You might need to tell me exactly what you want, and nicely.”

“…Ar…Arcade, I need you to fuck my ass…please,” MacCready pleaded.

Arcade slowly stretched his face into a wicked grin, “That’s more like it.”

Arcade finally took the effort to remove his clothes, having long forgotten to remove them himself. He quickly undid his own button up shirt, and threw it off, yanking off the tee shirt underneath. He undid his pants, and hopped off the bed, then pushed his pants down, and took his underwear with them. His erection flopped out, and MacCready bit down on his lip even harder, clearly liking what he saw.

Arcade climbed back on to the bed, grabbed MacCready by the hips, and pulled him further down the bed, cuffs scraping down the bedpost. Arcade ignored the sound, and slicked up his fingers with spit. It would have to do for now, but he’d have to be careful. Lube sadly didn’t make the cut in terms of being a Wasteland necessity. Might be time to stock up. He stuck the wet fingertip into MacCready’s hole, and watched him squirm and moan almost instantly. He pushed in a little further, slowly, exploratory.

“…Is everything okay?”

“God yes…more…”

Arcade grinned again, this boy knew how to beg, and it was so endearing. He got his finger in down to the second knuckle, and quickly pulled out, quickly adding another finger. MacCready was just one constant moan, his mouth hanging open, simply waiting and feeling. Nice and under Arcade’s spell, just how he liked boys like these. Definitely time to give him what he wanted. He slicked up his cock as best as he could, God, let him not mess this up now. Arcade grabbed MacCready’s legs and threw them up, bending them back, exposing his hole to him. MacCready was spread out before him, gone from so threatening earlier to restrained, soon to be defiled…not literally, he seemed to know to vocabulary of getting fucked by a man too much for that. Still, it was a nice thought. Arcade brought the head of his cock to MacCready’s hole with one hand, using the other to hold a leg back.

“Please,” MacCready said, feeling the tip push past the initial tightness of his hole. Arcade began to thrust a tiny bit, working with MacCready’s ass, slowly working his way in, earning new moans with each tiny little bit of depth gained. No lube meant patience…and watching MacCready so impatient made it entirely worth it regardless. Finally, after a minute of anticipation, Arcade bottomed out, fully inside MacCready, and began to thrust into his warm, tight ass. God, it was really worth it. He kept a brisk pace, grabbing on to the other man’s legs just below the knees. MacCready himself was completely lost in it at his point, moaning and babbling. Arcade loved to see this, so he thrusted faster, harder, his own breath growing louder and more intense.

A few blissful minutes passed doing this. God, MacCready took dick like a champ and it was just beautiful to see. Arcade could already feel the first rumblings of his orgasm. Disappointing, but he was fucking like he was young again, so there probably was an upside here. MacCready kept moaning each time Arcade’s cock slid further into him, and it was driving Arcade crazy. He figured now was probably the time to end it for himself, so he went a bit faster still. He would definitely feel this a bit tomorrow, but he supposed it counted as exercise after being cooped up on a boat. He focused on the feeling in his cock and kept going, trying to find that last rhythm that would send him over the edge. Finally he could feel his climax coming, and he started to pull out, but came before he could grab his cock, semen squirting out on to MacCready’s stomach, the two of them panting heavily. Arcade wasn’t loud when he came, but seeing if the younger man was one was definitely something to discover.

He took a minute to deal with the blissful post-coital chemical cocktail running through his head, then reached over to the headboard of the bed. He uncuffed MacCready, and quickly backed off the bed entirely, standing over the younger man.

“Jerk off for me,” he commanded, as MacCready’s eyes rolled from the back of his head and returned to focus.

“Damn, you make me do all these awful things,” he teased to Arcade, and spat onto his hand, eager to comply, belly still splattered with Arcade’s cum.

Arcade walked over to the dresser, and grabbed his bag of caps, and returned to stand over MacCready, dropping the bad on the side of the bed.

“So, we agreed on sixty five caps per hour. Sadly, I’m not getting five hours out of you, so here’s your money,” and he threw five caps onto the bed.

MacCready was clearly excited by the caps, and stroked himself faster, only stopping to apply more saliva to rub onto his cock. Arcade raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a working man, huh,” he said sultrily, “You love getting paid. Hell, you’ll jump on a dick you were about to shoot, because you just love the caps…say it. You. Love. The. Caps,” he ordered, throwing five more caps to MacCready, who at this point, was the embodiment of human want. Arcade reached down into the bag, but stopped halfway, “I asked you do say something, MacCready.”

MacCready grunted, just to show he had heard, “I love the caps,” he said in a strained, breathy, whisper. Arcade chuckled,

“Good,” he said, and threw five more caps n to the bed, bouncing off MacCready’s body. He was stroking more frantically than ever, his eyes wide and pleading and his mouth hanging open.

“Hmm, I can’t tell,” Arcade continued, “Do you want to get off, or do you want to get paid? I can’t quite tell with you.”

“God…I…I….just…”

Arcade laughed again, “Of course you don’t know. Let me clear your mind for you,” and he felt around for ten caps with his fingers, relishing the edges. He tossed them across MacCready, one getting caught in his own dissolving mess on MacCready’s belly. Arcade wondered how much longer he would keep doing this, but as he paid more attention to MacCready’s sinews and muscles, he could see his legs starting to twitch. He was getting close.

“I wonder…if you’re such an actual whore…that you’d cum immediately if I gave you a little extra?” Arcade mused aloud, hand already reaching for the bag. He grabbed the biggest handful he could and let loose. They struck MacCready across his face, his chest, scattering off the sides of the bed and clinking off the brass bars on their way to the floorboards.

“God, pay me, pay me, pay me, GOD!” MacCready pleaded, right as his own orgasm came. Arcade threw another handful as MacCready shot his own cum, a bit further up his abs than Arcade managed. Arcade threw another handful and grinned, he had definitely performed well. MacCready’s chest heaved, six caps scattered across it where they had come to rest, several more on his chest, and they piled around him in the indent of the mattress like rose petals, with trails more leading to the floor.

Arcade softly laughed again. Money didn’t buy happiness, but it did buy beauty and the satisfaction of a job well done. The naked boy sprawled out on his bed, splattered in cum was an extremely pleasant bonus. A minute passed as MacCready brought still his beating heart, uncrossed his eyes from the orgasm.

“Damn,” he whispered, unable to project any louder.

“Look at you, my little whore,” Arcade whispered, leaning over the bed to kiss MacCready, “You’re a hard worker, I can tell.”

MacCready smiled, blushed a bit, “Well, uh…I try to be what I’m worth, I guess…”

He was just too cute.

“What are you waiting for?” Arcade teased, “Aren’t you going to collect your pay?”

MacCready blushed even further, “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

“Good boy. Count it up for me. That’s what your ass is worth.”

MacCready turned over and got up on all fours, knocking the caps off his torso. He crawled around the bed, ass in the air for Arcade to see, as he grabbed every cap his hands could reach. Arcade sat back in the chair in the corner, happy to watch. MacCready quickly organized the caps on the bed into a pile and fell to the floor, crawling under the bed for every last cap. For Arcade, it was the most beautiful greed he’d ever seen. He gathered the last ones from under the bed and quickly began counting, not bothering to clothe himself or even notice Arcade. Arcade could hear him whisper each number, each number more and more sacred to the younger man. Finally he finished.

“Eighty-four.”

“Pardon?” Arcade asked, feigning innocence.

“Eighty-four caps, that’s what I’ve got.”

All things considered, that wasn’t too bad. Half a day’s work. Still had a thousand more from Vegas, but this probably shouldn’t be a daily occurrence.

“Good, you earned a nice bonus,” Arcade said, as he got up to clean off. The room only seemed to be able to pipe in brackish water, but it still cleaned sufficiently as the two gathered around it. Arcade quickly began dressing, focusing on the fasteners and pulling the fabric of his clothing. He had his shirt halfway buttoned up when MacCready cleared his throat. Arcade looked up, to see him bare chested still.

“Hey, uh…” MacCready went silent, whatever he wanted to say it seemed to be difficult to spit out, “Um…now might be a good time to say I’m not actually a prostitute.”

Arcade’s smirking post-coital feeling disappeared rapidly. This is exactly the thing that would happen to him. He could hear a slight laughing, his own conscious making fun of the rest of him…wait…that was Veronica. Bitch had the nerve to eavesdrop…again.

“I don’t want to hear it Veronica!” he yelled towards the wall. MacCready was, unsurprisingly, rather confused.

“Yeah,” Arcade began, “She’s been travelling with me since Vegas,” he said, while Veronica continued to crack up, her voice still audible through the wall and the doorframe.

“Ha, Arcade pays for booty calls, and he DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO!” she exclaimed, fighting laughter, “You are such an idiot when the Gannon Cannon fires up!”

She continued to laugh uproariously, the two men in the room more than a bit sheepish. Finally, she stopped, seemingly only due to a lack of breath.

“…Y’know…I can just give you your caps back…” MacCready said softly.

Arcade just stood there, a look of pure bemusement twisting his lips, “Well, what do you actually do?”

“Heh…I’m still a merc,” MacCready said, “But I don’t really blame you, I kinda put it really prostitute-y downstairs.”

Arcade sighed, “Then you might as well keep the caps.”

MaCready’s eyes widened, and he put his hands up, “No no no, I mean, I wanted to have sex with you. But the caps kinda made me a bit hotter, y’know?”

“PROFLIGATE WHORE!” Veronica interjected from behind the wall.

“Ignore her,” Arcade instructed, “She laughs at penises.”

MacCready’s arm went to scratch his back. He clearly felt bad about it. Arcade figured he had a good solution.

“Well, I am going to be in town for a bit, maybe you could come back. We can do it for free, and you can take the caps as an apology for Veronica insulting you,” Arcade said, mock-chipper, “Besides, we’ll probably do some merc or scavenging work soon enough. Could always use a third hand anyway.”

MacCready smiled, relaxed his posture, “You know, that sounds pretty good. Besides, that whole experience was just…wow. I mean, you seem young, how’d you get so…skilled?”

Arcade could already feel his self-esteem swell, “Well…I’m forty one….”

MaCready’s eyes widened again, “Wait…what? Are you like some Enclave supersoldier? We look the same and I’m twenty two!”

Twenty two…damn, he was young. Wasteland already looked like it had done a number on him.

“Maybe…you’ll just have to find out,” Arcade teased.

“I guess so….so um…see you around?” MacCready turned around, grabbed and left, still feeling a little awkward about it all. No big deal, Arcade did too. Shame really, it was all going so great…Arcade quickly decided that no, it did go pretty damn well if he did say so himself. The next step was mostly just getting Veronica to get the fuck out of his love life. The girl was incorrigible….

**Author's Note:**

> I did it...I made two characters who have never met bang...I'm hopeless. Read, review and comment..


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